


The Turtle and The Vulture

by Lunarium



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Banter, F/F, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5958289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the War of the Ring, Ioreth and her wife enjoy a pleasant day amusing one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Turtle and The Vulture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegreatpumpkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/gifts).



> For TheGreatPumpkin, who wished to see Ioreth and her lover as an eldery couple.

The sweet song of the small birds were rewarded with seeds laid out on the open window sill by a wrinkled frail hand. One of the birds, chirping merrily, hopped under the hand and enjoyed a brief brush of the woman’s skin against its feathers before it grabbed a large seed with a tiny talon and flew off, singing out its victory.

Díllothel chuckled. The door behind opened and closed, the never-ending rambling of her wife drifting through. She need not look back to know Ioreth was talking to no one in particular, or perhaps to a bird who would lend her an ear. Díllothel would have to listen about the entire day’s event, so she hurried in getting the tea and the jam and the biscuits ready for Ioreth.

“Díllothel, dear! Is the tea ready?”

“It is so, my love!” Díllothel called out.

“I must apologize for not coming in to kiss you! There is a crick in my knees that hasn’t healed all day, and I cannot be on my feet for long. I will be outside. Oh, what a long day it’s been!”

“The carriers were late with the medical herbs, and two of the young ‘un healers couldn’t catch up to our work!” Díllothel finished under her breath as Ioreth rattled on. She smiled, knowing the words to Ioreth’s complaints so well by now.

Ioreth was sitting at the balcony of their home, gazing out over the world. A warm blanket covered her lap. She didn’t stand up when Díllothel appeared, but reached up for a kiss after Díllothel set the tea tray between them. 

“Did you remember the peach jam?” Ioreth asked. “My sisters in Imloth Melui made such sweet peach jam. We learned the recipe from our mother early in our youths. She did marvels in the kitchen, dear Díllothel, and apricot jams and blueberries, all perfectly honeyed!”

She went on a tangent about all the different kinds she had tried while Díllothel quietly poured her a cup of tea and prepared it exactly the way Ioreth enjoyed, then accented it with some lemoned biscuit and jam. 

“I made these just as you enjoy them, dear,” Díllothel said patiently and settled beside her wife, pulling another blanket over her knees. 

Ioreth grew quiet long enough to take a sip, praising Díllothel on the tea, and had taken a bite of the biscuit when one of their neighbors passed by and waved. Their balcony was but a couple feet above the walkway that they could easily speak with the passersby, and Ioreth didn’t let one opportunity go. Díllothel watched each new victim with amused sympathy as Ioreth kept them from their journey, asking them about their wellbeing and their family, which was often invitation for Ioreth to share some other story of her own that seemingly never ended. It was all friendly, all joyous talk, but clearly she did not realize others had need of other places to be until they politely but firmly excused themselves and ran off. 

“Ah, they must enjoy jogging down the roads, what with the land so green nowadays after the king of Gondor has returned,” Ioreth said with a click of her tongue. She reached for her tea, took a sip, and made a disgusted noise. “Oh, and the tea’s gone cold!” 

“Perhaps because your own mouth has been jogging for miles away!” Díllothel said. “I could scarcely hear the birdsong with your vulturous yakking!” 

“You compare your own wife to a vulture?” Ioreth said, mustering as much hurt as she could. Looking over her book, Díllothel could almost burst out laughing at the sight of the hunched old woman before her. “You are more a turtle who readily hides inside her shell and seldom speaks until she wishes to cast an offensive peck at some poor unsuspecting victim.”

“A vulture, a _victim_? Oh, my dear! Truly you are deluded, if you hold sympathy for a vulture whose words rattle out the life of a being, then picks off what remains of the bones with its constant yakking!” 

Some of the passersby, hearing their squabble, paused to hear more of this unusual exchange. One in particular, a halfling Díllothel assumed, must have wanted to intervene but decided against it and rushed towards the heart of Gondor. 

“And let me tell you another thing about turtles,” Ioreth was saying as the halfling disappeared from Díllothel’s view. 

Díllothel shook her head and smiled as she flipped through the book, all the while Ioreth went on animatedly about all she ever knew about turtles and all the turtles she had ever encountered in her life. Their playful argument would carry on for another hour yet before the two would grow tired of it and return inside, but this moment of fun was a rare moment they had not had for a long time. 

The world was indeed greener, Díllothel decided, the tea sweeter, and the world ever more peaceful.

 _Or as peaceful as it could be, with Ioreth around_ , Díllothel thought affectionately.


End file.
